The Greatest Gift of All
by DarkElements10
Summary: One of the best Christmas gifts Logan Mitchell had ever received was one he didn't even know he wanted. One-Shot.


**The Greatest Gift of All**

 **By: Rhuben**

 **Summary- One of the best Christmas gifts Logan Mitchell had ever received was one he didn't even know he wanted.**

* * *

Logan let out a sigh through his nose as he slowly woke up. He could feel himself leaving the dream world behind, allowing himself to recognize the feeling of the soft sheets twisted between his legs, the foam mattress forming a second skin around him. Lifting his arms to rub at his burning eyes, something sharp poked him in the soft flesh on the inside of his arm. Blinking his eyes open, he squinted at the heavy, hardcover textbook lying across his chest.

Even the holidays couldn't stop him from spending as much time as he could studying; there was so much out there that he could learn. The world of medicine constantly had new breakthroughs and advancement in technology that he could only dream of being able to get his hands on in the future. That meant he had to learn about it as much as possible.

He had always been that way. No matter what the situation, he would rather get all the details and prepare himself for any potential outcomes instead of just jumping into things head first. Kendall would always roll his narrow green eyes, smirk, and spout off some mantra that he lived by. Carlos would always be the first to jump into any plan Kendall came up with; if not just do whatever it was he wanted to do. James always worried about what kind of attention he could get out of it, and made sure he looked good doing whatever it was. Which left him as the responsible one.

As long as he could explain to his friends how it could turn out badly (and it did a lot of the time) he was good to go. Logan was the only one with the medical know-how so there was some sort of insurance with him being there and he knew how to talk down Mrs. Knight when any risks of injury was involved.

Only now, the only kind of excitement and adventure he got was whenever there was more traffic than usual as he volunteered at the local hospital. Long days studying and long nights working was what he had to look forward to for a long while. If it wasn't for all the Christmas songs being played in the waiting areas (and every once in a while he got to hear his own Christmas original playing alongside the likes of Mariah Carey and the classics like "Silent Night") he didn't think he'd even realize what time of year it was.

The smell of something sweet wafted underneath his closed door, swarming him in the darkness, bringing him some warmth. Logan's stomach clenched, a ball forming in his center before settling in his chest as homesickness hit him. He needed to call his mom and grandmother. It was the first time in a long while he couldn't make it home for Christmas and he missed celebrating the holidays with them. Just spending time with his family, knowing they were around him and in the same vicinity to feel their energy and love was a great energy booster after a long semester.

Soft humming reached Logan's ears as he lifted his book off his chest, setting it down on the floor, knocking over the notebooks, pens, pencils, and hi-liters that were previously sitting on his legs onto the floor with a loud _thump_. He stretched his arms up over his head and swung his legs over the side of his bed, setting them onto the carpeted flooring.

"Ohhhhh," Logan groaned as he got to his feet, his muscles constricting and relaxing, the tight, sore feeling hurting and feeling so good at the same time. Listing to one side he blindly reached for the lamp. His fingers brushed over the lampshade and he reached underneath, clicking on the light. "Mmm."

Squinting, Logan made a face before shuffling over to his closet, tugging on the waistband of his pajama pants, pulling them higher up on his hips before pulling the doors open. He pulled a t-shirt off the nearest hanger, watching as the hanger went spinning and bouncing around the rod before it settled and his vision was obscured by the soft cotton as he pulled it over his face. Joining along in the humming of "Santa Clause is Coming to Town" with his soft singing, Logan stepped out of his room and into the bright kitchen where his father, Charlie Mitchell, stood at the stove, flipping pancakes.

"Morning," Logan greeted in a sleep-induced gravelly voice as he lowered himself onto one of the cushion top bar stools that lined the rounded counter. "Dad, I said I'd make breakfast." Logan watched as the muscles under his dad's tattooed covered forearms moved as he stacked the finished pancakes onto a serving plate before he turned to face his son.

"You were up late studying, Hortense," Charlie explained, setting the plate down in front of his son, next to a bowl of grapes. "It was the least I could do."

"It's 'Logan', dad," Logan corrected him, running a hand over his face.

"Right, right, sorry," Charlie said, before uttering a quick apology. "It keep forgetting you don't go by that anymore." His lips twitched. "Not that I really blame you." He reached for the grapes and popped one into his mouth. "For the record," he explained as he chewed, "I wanted your first name to be Logan, not your middle name."

"You mustn't have fought mom hard on that," Logan mused aloud.

"You don't fight with a woman giving birth," Charlie replied with a shake of his head. Logan's lips twitched upwards into a brief smile before he started studying the man in front of him.

Same angled jaw, same smile line from his chin to halfway up his cheek, same big forehead, and same dark hair. But all the years spent in prison put years on his dad; deep wrinkles sat around his eyes, his shoulders and biceps were so bulky they almost looked like they were going to burst the seams of his shirt, and his forearms were covered in tattoos.

Charlie's dark hair was freshly cut short in comparison to its longer length where it almost sat down at his shoulders; a style he grew out after being released. His eyes didn't seem to hold a lot of light—as it grew closer to the holidays he could see more, but it was hard to decipher from actually being happy to be with his son or if they were just reflecting Christmas lights—and his smile never seemed to reach its full extent.

Logan would never had recognized his father if it wasn't for the image his mom had texted him shortly after his release and before he showed up at his apartment door. "He needs someone to stay with him, it's a stipulation of his parole," his mother, Joann, explained as she hastily shoved a stack of papers into Logan's hand. Listings. "I've already found a few apartments and houses you two can move into. We can start looking today." At Logan's wide-eyed incredulous stare, she added, "Logan, _please_! I know this is last minute, but I think this could be really good for you, two. It'll be good for the family."

Seeing the pleading, almost desperate look on his mother's face, Logan waved his hand in the air and nodded, glancing over at his dad as he muttered a "Yeah, sure, whatever." He didn't think it was a good idea, but if his mom could look past everything and try and settle him up with a good living space, then who was he to not accept her judgment? He was going to be a future doctor and doctors did their best to help people; that was why he wanted to get into the profession himself. He liked helping people and after watching his grandfather's health deteriorate as a kid, he had his future planned out ever since.

He never could imagine his future involving living with his father. Heck, he was sure his dad never thought the same, let alone being released from prison at all. Logan had often caught his dad walking around the living room, briefly pausing to look out the window overlooking the streets of the neighborhood, let out a sigh, and start pacing again. Touch screen _anything_ was lost on him (Logan had lost count how many times he had been asked to hang up the phone for his dad), computers and tablets were a foreign concept, and the internet was like some sort of sorcery to him ("Wow! You mean I don't even have to go to the store to order this?").

But he could cook.

It was nice to come home after a long night of work and studying to have something hot on the table ready to be eaten. Even more so, the longer his dad was around, the more he got used to the "how was your day" conversations over dinner and he actually started to look forward to them. And Charlie listened. He could talk to his girlfriend, Camille, about it on FaceTime or over the phone and he could see that it wasn't something she was _too_ interested in, but he loved her for trying. His dad on the other hand listened intently and asked questions and would bring up things he had said a long time ago about a certain subject.

"What?" Charlie asked, grabbing another handful of grapes into his mouth before peering at the pancakes over his shoulder.

"Nothing," Logan replied with a shake of his head. He looked around the apartment and at the lit up Christmas tree in the corner of the living room adorned with ornaments and lights with a few gifts underneath, to the wreath hanging around the clock above the TV, to the lights framing each window. "I used to make you breakfast in bed for Christmas."

"You remember that?" Charlie asked and Logan could practically see the smile on his dad's face. "I hope you've gotten better at leaving the egg shells out."

"And I don't use as much hot sauce anymore," Logan added, pulling himself off of his stool.

"Ahh, nothing like a burn in your heart to put a fire under your ass," Charlie commented, a hint of a southern twang coming to his tone. Logan felt himself smile as Charlie let out a short chuckle at his own joke. He didn't really laugh out loud and if he did, it was short and more on the quiet side as if he was still trying to keep himself in line.

"Coffee always stumped me, but I can do that now, too." Logan's feet made a slapping sound as the flooring transitioned from the carpet to linoleum. He opened the cupboard near the stove and removed two coffee mugs. He reached for the keurig machine and the container holding the cups beside it.

"At least one of us knows how to use that contraption," Charlie commented as he dropped a handful of blueberries and pecans, from the small dishes next to the stove, onto the pancakes. "Back in my day we had to scoop out the right amount of coffee grounds and everything. We didn't have that many flavors either or those cappa and frappe things."

"How do you like yours, dad?" Logan asked, as he selected a French roast for himself, closing the top of the Keurig with a _click_.

"Dark? Black?" Charlie shrugged his shoulders. "Normal coffee, I guess." Logan reached for a K-cup of Folger's Dark Roast coffee and set it down on the counter. "With one spoonful of sugar. I don't need much."

"Hmmm." That much was true. Charlie didn't have a lot of personal belongings when he initially arrived and it took a little while for him to get used to having a full closet of clothes.

"I'm sorry you couldn't do what you planned for Christmas," Charlie said, suddenly. Logan looked at his dad's profile as he stared down at the cooking food. "I'm sure you had better things to do then babysit your own father. You have friends to hang out with; Kendall and them I'm sure." He lifted his head and looked his son in the eye. "Or your girlfriend. Camille right?"

"Yeah, Camille." Logan crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the counter. "It's fine dad," he replied. "Really. Don't worry about it. I can call her later and I'm getting together with the guys for New Year's, anyway."

"So you two have been together for a while?' Charlie asked as the Keurig stopped pouring the hot coffee into the cup. Logan reached for the cup of steaming coffee and set it aside before loading it with his dad's coffee choice. "Have you thought about marriage at all?"

"Ehh, we've been on and off for a while," Logan explained with a hint of a sigh. "We've talked about it; where we'd want to live, what we want to accomplish before hand, that kind of thing. But, I don't know what we're going to do yet."

"Your mom's always wanted a daughter," Charlie said. "We thought you were a girl for a while, actually. If you had been, we would've named you Hillary."

Logan's head shot up and he gave his dad a wide eyed stare. " _Hillary_?!" he repeated. "Hortense or Hillary?"

"Hillary's not a bad name," Charlie said, removing the finished pancakes from the stove. He turned off the burner underneath the cooking pan and started filling the sink with dirty dishes and spatulas. "It's better than Charleston, anyway."

Logan let out a loud laugh. "Wait, are you kidding?" he asked. "Your name's Charleston?"

"Why do you think I go by Charlie?" his dad asked with a smirk.

"I thought your name was Charles or something like that," Logan said. "Is it really?"

"Yyep," Charlie replied with a nod. "Your grandparents loved the city so they named me after it." He turned off the light over the stove. "Ok, let's eat."

"I think the Christmas parade is on now," Logan said. The two of them silently fixed their plates (with Charlie drawing a smiley face on Logan's pancakes with whipped cream when he wasn't paying attention) and grabbed their coffee mugs before settling into the living room on opposite sides of the couch. As they ate, Logan noticed his dad's gaze shifting from the TV to him for longer periods of time.

"What?" he asked.

Charlie nodded towards the tree in the corner. "You see that lumpy gift over there under the tree?" he asked. Logan turned his head and spotted the somewhat pyramid shaped present next to the square and rectangle boxes. "Go open it." Logan made a face as Charlie set down his empty dishes. "I know we don't open gifts until after dinner, but its ok. I want you to open it now."

"Ok." Logan leaned forward in his seat to set his nearly empty plate of pancakes and syrup down onto the wood table in front of him. Wiping his sticky fingers on his pajama pants (making a mental note to wash them as soon as possible), he made his way over to the tree and grabbed the gift in question. It was soft and his fingers pressed into…whatever it was under the crinkling wrapping paper. He twisted it around in his hands. "Who's it from?"

"From me and your mother, it was a joint idea," Charlie replied as Logan sat back down on the couch. He ripped off the paper and was first face o face with a mint green colored cloth, and then a black square with a skeleton and a heart on it, then white…

"A bear dressed as a doctor, cool," Logan said, feeling a bright smile come to his face. "And it has a stethoscope and everything." Logan ran his hands over the white coat and blue stethoscope that dressed the brown stuffed animal. "I love it."

"Do you really? Your mom told me about this Build-A-Bear when I told her my idea."

Logan hugged the bear to his chest before looking up at his dad. Charlie chewed on his bottom lip, looking unsure. "Yeah," he replied. "I do."

"I know I missed out on a lot of birthdays and Christmases," Charlie explained running his fingers through his hair. He shrugged his shoulder and tugged at the collar of his shirt. "I just thought it'd be something you'd like because of the whole doctor thing and I never got the chance to get you this kind of stuff as a kid. I know you've outgrown this kind of stuff but—"

Logan found himself tucked under his dad's arm, giving him a tight hug around the waist. "Thanks dad," he said quietly. He half-buried his face into his dad's chest, the other half pressed into the soft fur of the bear. "It's perfect."

"You're welcome, Logan," Charlie replied. Logan felt his dad's bigger hand on the back of his head, ruffling his hair.

He might not be a little boy anymore, but in that moment he might as well have been. He had finally gotten the Christmas wish he had always wanted; his dad was back.

Finally.

* * *

 **A/N:** Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, everyone. Haven't written in the BTR fandom for a while, but I've been re-watching the episodes on TeenNick lately and have re-found my love for the show. Not sure if I'll ever get back into this fandom fully (I do know I still need to finish my fic, _My Brothers_ , and I want to get back to writing my characters in this fandm), but this is part of an idea I've had, and tried a couple times, for a while.


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